


though the night still frightens you

by coyotesuspect



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7645168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotesuspect/pseuds/coyotesuspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Vax and Vex share a bed (and one time they don’t). </p><p>Spoilers through episode 45.</p>
            </blockquote>





	though the night still frightens you

i.

There is always music playing in Syngorn, and there is always laughter. Vax can hear both as he slinks past a small plaza, trying to keep to the shadows. But he doesn't go without notice. The music and laughter both stop. The small group of gold and copper-haired elves sitting on the plaza fountain have gone silent, their instruments stilled. They’re watching him. From the corner of his eye, he can see how young they are. They look as young as he and Vex do, which, perversely, given the lingering lifespans of elves, must make them far older. 

One of them giggles, quite obviously staring at his ears, and he hears someone else mutter his father’s name – an explanation, he expects. His cheeks burn. If Vex were here, he'd stop and face them. As it is, he's looking for her. He’s been banished from the day’s etiquette lessons for making “vile and uncouth sounds” every time his tutor turned around. He’s proud of himself. He’ll have to remember how well making fart noises worked. 

He does stop briefly, though, and presses the bottoms of his palms together. He makes eye contact with the elf that giggled and brings his palms to his mouth. Then he blows - loudly and with relish. The noise echoes obscenely through the plaza and the elves, prim bastards all of them, shriek identically in disgust. 

He walks on.

Vex should be finishing up her day’s archery lessons. Her practice field is just beyond a warren of armories and barracks. The path is well familiar to Vax. He ducks past anyone who might question a teenage half-elf wandering around, and finds his way to the field just as the sun has begun to set and cast its rays into the archers’ eyes. Vex likes to practice this time of day, he knows. She appreciates the challenge. 

He leans against the fence to watch. Vex stands in a line of other archers, all also the sons and daughters of the city’s minor nobility. They're mostly the same age as the twins, and so have all stayed behind in a squalling pre-adolescence as he and Vex have shot up towards maturity. A guardsman walks along the line, adjusting stances and grips. To Vex, he just nods approvingly and steps back, gesturing at her to fire. 

“Show the rest of them how it’s done,” he says. 

Vex’s bow is nearly as tall as her. Still, she pulls back easily, the only hint of effort the slight crease between her brows, something only an expert – or her twin – could notice. She lets loose and the arrow flies true, thumping with a hard, satisfying noise into the target over a hundred paces away. 

“Not bad,” says the guardsman, smiling. “You’ll make a decent archer yet.” 

Vex beams, her face flush with happiness. There’s a titter from some of the other students towards the back of a line. 

“Not bad for a half-elf,” sneers one.

Vex’s whole posture changes. Her eyes and shoulders drop and she blushes; her hands tighten on the bow. 

“Hey,” says the guardsman, looking down the line disapprovingly, clearly unsure of who had spoken. “She’s a fair better archer than any of you lot.”

But Vax did see the asshole, and he launches himself towards them – Corell, a willowy, white-blond youth he recognizes as the particularly annoying son of one of his father’s colleagues. 

Corell screams like a rabbit as Vax slams into him. He takes the smaller boy down easily. Vax pins him between his legs and then rears back, fist raised. He slams it down into Corell’s face. Corell screams again and Vax stifles a shout of his own. In his anger, he threw his fist badly and pain flares across his knuckles. 

Someone tackles Vax and he lands heavily on the ground, a body on top of him. He shoves the body off roughly – one of Corell’s friends, he realizes dimly – but then two more leap atop of him. They’re smaller and lighter than him, and he’s used to fighting outnumbered. He knocks one into the other. But then his first attacker is back up and pulls viciously on Vax’s hair. He yelps and turns swiftly, even on his knees. He punches the hair-puller low in the gut and the boy sobs and gasps. 

“That’s enough!” Vax feels himself yanked from the ground by his waist. Vex stands frozen a few feet away from him, her bow held club-like above the head of one of Vax’s opponents. She meets his eyes. Slowly, she lowers it. 

“Dismissed for the day!” barks the guardsman at the students, now loosely assembled in a half circle around the scene of the fight. The guardsman puts Vax onto his feet and then wipes his hand on his tunic, like he’s afraid some of Vax rubbed off on him. “Except for you. I’ll have to talk to your father about you.” 

Vax rocks back and forth on his heels, looking up the guardsman. He’s not bad looking. There’s a rather fetching scar across his cheek. 

Vax smiles. 

“Good thing I’m not in this class,” he says, and he bolts off. He hears Vex’s shout of dismay and then her own footsteps after him. 

He doesn’t bother to skulk this time, just runs fleet-footed. His sister keeps pace just behind, and he can hear her swear and apologize as she nearly runs into others. 

He stops, finally, in the plaza he had passed through. The elves he saw there are gone. The plaza is empty, the only sound the flowing fountain and his own harsh and ragged breath. The light is rich and golden, almost viscous looking and it sends the long shadows of buildings streaking across the plaza stone. He's called this called elf-light before. Of course elves would name a type of light after themselves.

Vex is on him in an instant.

“Vax! Are you all right?” 

She puts her hands on his shoulders and looks him over.

“I’m fine!” he snaps and shoves her away. He still feels caught up in a coil of adrenaline. He wants to knee Corell into the dirt and make him apologize. 

Vex smacks him in the shoulder. 

“You idiot! What the hell do you think you were doing?” 

“You heard what that ass said about you! Someone needed to teach him a lesson!”

Vex glares at him, cheeks red. She’s breathing hard from their run. “There are smarter ways to teach someone a lesson,” she hisses. 

“And I’ll do those too!” He throws his hands up. “But I wasn’t going to sit there and let him insult you!” 

“It’s insulting to be called a half-elf?” she asks. Her voice has gone dangerously low. Vax flushes. 

“No – and you know that’s not what I meant!” 

She watches him for a moment, her lips pursed, and twirls a curl of hair on her finger. 

“You’re still an idiot,” she says decisively. “But you can be a very sweet idiot, I suppose.” 

“You really are too kind sometimes,” he says dryly.

She snorts and then her face falls. 

“Father is going to kill you, you know.” 

He shrugs. It's been a long time since he's cared about his father's opinion, and an even longer time since he's believed in his father's threats. “Well, there’s no use in dealing with him now, is there?”

Vex smiles.

For once, brother, I think you might be right."

They stay out until well after moonrise. Vax steals them a bottle of wine and they go from puddled shadow to puddled shadow taking sips from it. They pass gleaming parties, where light and dreamy laughter both pool from doorways. They sit, for awhile, on one darkened step, listening to a spinning, silver music that floats from the birdhouse-delicate building in the middle of the street. It both tugs at him and forbids him to move closer. This is all they'll really have from the elves - whatever they can steal. 

When they finally turn towards home, there is still a light on in their father’s house, but the house itself is silent. 

Syldor is waiting for them inside. He rises from his seat as soon as the door opens. The look on his face is a thunderstorm. 

“Vex’ahlia,” he snaps. “Go to your room. Vax’ildan, remain here.” 

Vex draws herself up and grabs Vax’s hand. 

“No,” she says. 

His eyes flick over her contemptuously. 

“Very well.” He turns his attention to Vax, Vex already dismissed as relevant within his mind. “You – ”

“Me,” says Vax. “Actually, I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go to bed.” 

“Oh, no. No, you will not.” Syldor moves to stand in front of the hallway that leads towards their bedrooms. But it’s clear he has little idea and little hope of actually stopping them without resorting to physical force. Even if he tried, at sixteen, Vax could shove him aside. 

He sizes his father up.

“You are a disgrace,” spits Syldor. “What you’ve done – your violence, your barbarism – that is not of _my_ blood.” 

He says "my blood" like it's something they've stolen from him.

Vax snarls, but it’s Vex who responds first. 

“Oh no!” she cries. “You’re not violent! You’re never violent! You’re just _cruel_!” 

Syldor’s pale complexion shows his fury easily. 

“Cruel? It was hardly cruelty for me to take the two of you into my house.” 

“We’re not your charity cases!” shouts Vax. “We don’t even want to be here!” 

“Then you are both ungrateful!” 

“You’ve given us nothing to be grateful for! You won’t even listen to us!” Vex sounds near tears. Vax squeezes her hand. She’s trembling. 

He’s trembling, too. 

“Silence! Both of you! I’ve had enough of your ingratitude.” 

“And we’ve had enough of you!” 

Vex tows Vax towards the hallway. Syldor seems to brace himself and then breathes out and steps away. He does not look at them as they pass. 

“I should never have thought you two could be civilized,” he says. 

Vax nearly turns but Vex tugs his arm sharply. He follows her. 

She shoulders open to the door to her room and lets go of his hand, then flings herself across her bed. She covers her face. Vax realizes she’s crying.

“Hey, hey, now.” He lies down beside her and awkwardly places one arm around her. “It’s not all bad. It’s not like we didn’t know he was a dick.” 

“I hate him,” says Vex, spitting the words like venom. “I hate all of them.”

Vax nods his agreement, his rage still barely cooled. He balls his hands into his fists. His right hand hurts, bruised. 

“Fuck all of them. They’re all bastards.” 

“What if we just left?” says Vex. She drags her hands down her face and stares at him. Her eyes are red, but she's stopped crying. 

“They’d be happy to see us leave. I’d be happy to go.” 

“Then we should!” Vex sits up. She is glowing as fiercely as a god. “Tomorrow night! We’ll just need to collect a few provisions.” 

“And say our good-byes?” asks Vax, half in jest. 

Vex’s face darkens.

“No,” she says, decisively. She lies back down and clasps their hands together. “You’re the only one here I care about.” 

ii. 

“We don’t need a room,” says Vex. “Your stable would be adequate. We just want to be out of the rain.” 

The innkeeper shakes his head. “You and everyone else, lass. The stable’s full up, and I don’t think a pretty girl like you would like the company.”

Vex and Vax both flare at that, and Vax’s hand goes to the dagger at his belt. 

“I don’t think I like your tone,” he says, summoning the clipped, Syngorn accent of their past. 

The innkeeper makes a conciliatory gesture, but his expression doesn’t change. “I’m just looking out for your…” he trails off, obviously unclear as to the nature of their relationship. Then he shrugs, just as obviously not caring. “But I’ve told you we’ve one room left and I’ve told you the price. Otherwise, you’re welcome to enjoy the storm.” 

Vax shares an uneasy glance with his sister. At fifty silver, the price is enough to clean out the last of their savings. But the rain has been icy and unrelenting all day, and the temperature has only fallen since the sun set. It's blind-dark and both of them are chilled and covered in mud to their waist. This high in the mountains, this inn for merchants making the perilous journey towards Westruun is the only shelter they could find. 

“Darling,” Vex purrs. She leans across the bar and touches the man lightly on his arm. “My brother and I have been traveling for weeks now. It won’t be pleasant, but we can definitely survive a night like this in the open.”

They could, Vax thinks, but he has no desire to spend another night huddling in a ditch with his sister, to wake up with their cloaks iced from frost or freezing rain. 

“And besides,” continues Vex, voice smooth, “it’s very late. You’ll get no more business tonight. My brother and I are your only hope of filling that room. Don’t you think thirty-five is much more reasonable?” 

“Forty-five,” says the innkeeper.

“Forty,” counters Vex.

“Forty-five,” says the innkeeper, stubborn. “I’ve a family to feed.” 

Vax breathes out. Five silver would at least give them enough to eat for the next couple days. 

“Fine,” says Vex, finally. She lifts her chin. “But I expect a warm bath drawn for each of us and breakfast in the morning. And we’ll want our clothes seen to.” 

The innkeeper snorts. “Very well. Alice’ll see you to your room and to your needs.” 

He shouts and a small girl scurries out from the kitchen. 

“See these two to their room,” he tells her, handing her a key. 

She nods, her eyes darting between them, and leads them up the stairs. Vax studies her for a moment and decides she’s just shy rather than browbeaten. 

The room is richly furnished. It reminds Vax of their father’s home in Syngorn. And from Vex’s expression, he can tell she’s thinking the same. No wonder it costs so much.

“Better than a barn,” says Vex. She turns to the girl. “Darling, could you draw me up a bath?” 

The girl does as she’s asked and soon there’s a faintly steaming bath for Vex to step into. Vax turns away. Privacy on the road is sparse. 

He hears the soft clink of silver as Vex hands a couple coins to the girl. So much for being able to eat for a few more days. But he smiles. His sister for all her miserliness has a soft underbelly. And he’s not too worried. They’ll find a merchant with a fat purse looking to hire extra protection on the road, or a merchant with a fat purse and eyes slower than Vax’s fingers. Half a year of travel has taught Vax that above all, the two of them can survive. 

“And can you draw one for my – for my companion, when I’m done?” 

He doesn’t hear the girl respond but he does hear the snick of the door and her step as she leaves. 

“You expect me to bathe while you’re in the room?” he says. He has his daggers out. He starts examining them for nicks. 

“I’ll look away. But it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. And I’m not letting you sleep next to me when you’re covered in mud.” 

Vax snorts. “You’re wasting water.” 

“I’m luxuriating. And on a night like this, I deserve it.”

“Don’t get used to it.” 

Vex scoffs. “Someday I’ll be a rich lady. You’ll see.” 

“And will you have a place for your dear old brother?”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to spare a stable loft for you to sleep in.” 

He laughs. “That’s kind of you.” And sets to sharpening his knives. 

True to word, Vex summons the girl back up after her bath is done, and within another quarter hour, Vax sinks into a hot bath of his own. He has to admit it, if only to himself, that it’s nice. His legs are sore from walking and the rest of him is sore from the cold and sleeping on the ground. He and Vex don’t allow themselves many moments like this.

Vex settles on the bed and combs her hair, her back to him. She’s still struggling with it by the time he’s out of the bath and dressed. Even braided, her hair has become knotted and matted from the last several days hard travel. He’s sure his is not much better – probably worse, actually, since Vex is at least practical enough to braid hers back – but Vex takes more pride in her hair. 

“Give that to me,” he says, snatching the comb from her hand before she can argue. He settles down behind her on the bed. 

It's pleasant work to comb Vex’s hair. The rain and wind continue their rattling work, but the room is well-made and warm. He feels safe, and he gives over himself over to the simple task at hand. 

They’re both yawning by the time he finishes. He passes the comb through his own hair a few times and then nudges Vex. She’s sprawled out on the bed, taking up most of it. 

“Oh, sorry,” she says, opening one eye to peer at him. “I assumed you were sleeping on the floor.” 

He sits on her legs. 

“Get off!” she half laughs, half shouts. She tries to squirm out from beneath him. 

He leans forward and pins her down, trapping her beneath him. 

“Sorry. I’m comfortable now,” he tells her, jamming his elbow into her collarbone. 

She retaliates by tickling him. He shrieks, more loudly than he’d like and rolls off her, bringing his arms up defensively. But she’s quick to pursue the advantage. Tracker that she is, his sister is relentless. He laughs until he’s gasping. 

“Mercy!” he yells, twisting away from her. “Mercy!” 

Vex leans back with a satisfied look. Vax strikes quickly. He grabs her wrist and drags her back towards him. 

“You’re cheating!” she shouts.

“Thief,” he reminds her cheerily. He puts her into a headlock and grinds his free hand into the top of her head, mussing her hair. She shrieks and tries, ineffectually, to break his hold. 

“Shut up!” shouts someone suddenly. Their door shudders as someone bangs on it and they both fall immediately and guiltily silent. 

“Sorry,” ventures Vax after a moment. He snickers. Vex glances at him, still locked in his grasp, and then she giggles, too. 

He's helpless then. They both dissolve into a fit of laughter and clutch at each other. 

“ _Shut up_!”

Vex clamps a hand over his mouth and he does the same to her. They continue to shake with laughter. Vax is totally breathless before he manages to get it under control. They lie in silence, half tangled, catching their breaths. The wind whines and their windows shake, but the cold is still kept at bay. Vex is a warm glow all her own. He shifts and feels Vex shift with him so that she lies with her cheek pressed against his back. He thinks she must be listening to his heartbeat. He wonders, at moments like these, how in sync their heartbeats are. He thinks they must be perfectly aligned. 

He closes his eyes, content, at least, for a time. 

iii. 

He finds her deep within the woods. The sky is fading to indigo above him, the first stars glimpsable behind a towering crown of trees. He observes her for a moment, assured she has not spotted him. She’s laughing, too enamored with the adolescent bear cub tottering around her. A leaf is caught in her hair. 

The man who had wanted her – who had paid such a price for her – was this how he had seen her? Beautiful, joyful, free? How could he have wanted, then, to take her? Who looks at the forest and wants it for their own? Someday, Vax thinks, and not for the first time, he will no longer need to make nice with the Clasp. He will find whatever man it was that demanded his sister and kill him. 

“Brother,” says Vex, voice lilting with amusement. “You can step out of the shadows now. I know you’re there.”

He steps forward, chagrined. 

“Where have you been?” she asks, once he is in sight. Her voice has slipped from amused through relief and straight into reproachful. She kneels down, calling Trinket to her, and hugs the bear tightly. Vax understands. He’s been gone three days. 

“I had business,” he tells her. 

She frowns, and Trinket growls a little. Vax has grown on Trinket, but the cub still seems wary of humans not named Vex. 

“What kind of business?”

“The usual kind.”

She arches an eyebrow at him, elegant and disdainful. Even living in the woods, she is too good at playing the lady. 

“The usual doesn’t make you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

He shrugs at her. He had decided as soon as he’d been given the task of procuring her that he would never tell her. He doesn’t want her to live with knowing the danger she was in, or with the knowledge what Vax did to get her out of it. 

“You’re allowed a secret,” he says, with a nod to Trinket. He has never truly bought his sister’s hazy explanation of how she came across the cub.

Vex looks cold and imperious, as she often does when – correctly – accused of falsehood. 

“I’ve told you a thousand times. I found him. He needed someone to take care of him.” 

“You’re full of shit.” 

“Well, so are you, but I’m usually polite enough not to mention it.” She narrows her eyes. “Just tell me you’re all right at least. You really do look terrible.” 

“Yes,” he says, and then his voice breaks. “I missed you.”

He strides forward and lifts her up from the leaf-littered floor and hugs her tightly. Trinket whines and smacks a surprisingly heavy paw against Vax’s leg. He ignores it. 

“Vax!” squawks Vex, laughing. She hugs him back. 

He holds her for a moment, just relieved to know she is safe. He plucks the leaf from her hair and steps backs to study her. She looks back at him, eyes wide and questioning - his lying, annoying, penny-pinching, wonderful sister. 

“I’m going to bed,” he says. Sometimes it's too much to be around her.

“What? Are you tired already? It’s barely dark.” Her voice is more gentle now. 

“It’s been a long week,” he says, choosing to humor her. 

He walks to their tent, set up at the edge of the clearing and still where he had left it when he’d set off three days ago to find work. Their tent is dark and dry and sturdy. It’s also just large enough for the three of them. Soon, it won’t be and they’ll have to decide whether to get a bigger one or all sleep outside. He knows Vex won’t sleep in a tent without Trinket, and Vax won’t sleep in a tent without Vex. 

He lays out his bedroll and collapses on it, pulling the top sheet tight around him. 

He is tired. He has barely slept the last three days – first from panic, then from the grim need to find someone he could willingly make a victim in Vex’s stead, and someone to make the transformation stick. He lies there with his thoughts and with his guilt. He would give that man - that child rapist - over again in a heartbeat. Vax has always known he himself is beyond redemption. Giving a man over to a life of slavery or worse is a black mark he’ll accept on his soul, especially if it pays for his sister’s freedom. 

He can think of nothing he would not give and nothing he would not take for his sister. The thought is both a comfort and a blow. At least he has that one principle to guide him.

Vex enters after what feels like hours, and lets in a blast of cold air and Trinket behind her. 

“You’re still awake?” she says. “I thought you were tired.”

“So did I. And I forgot to give you this.” He sits up and tosses her his purse. He should have done that first thing. She would have been distracted. 

Except… Vex’s breath catches as she hefts the purse in her hands and opens it to catch the color of the coin. Even dark as it is, she must be able to tell it’s gold. And that is not even half of what the job offered, Vax thinks dully. He signed off most of the prize to pay for the transformation spell he needed. 

“Really, Vax, what did you do?” she asks, barely above a whisper 

He can feel his jaw clench. 

“Can’t you just be happy for us and count the money?” 

She is quiet and bites her lip. She is a dim outline in the dark, but her head towards Trinket. He can read the acknowledgement in the lines of her body. She does have a secret, too; there are things she thinks Vax is better off not knowing about. He doesn’t know when they started keeping secrets from each other. 

“All right,” she says. She puts the money away. “But it’s too dark to count it now.”

He says nothing and turns away, curling his knees up into his chest. Behind him, he hears her get ready for sleep. Trinket grumbles contentedly, and Vex talks in undertone to the bear. The last three nights must have been like this, warm enough inside and peaceful, with the rich smell of the forest around them. Vex will have a lifetime of nights like these. The stone inside his chest loosens a bit. 

Vex lies down finally, her back against Vax's, and he feels the stone loosen more with every point of contact. He has been so afraid for her, that someone else might find her and take her before he could enact his ruse. 

“It’ll be winter soon,” he says, half an apology for his own coldness. He realizes, as well, that he needs to hear her voice, its warmth and musicality, the rippling laughter that always lies beneath. “Are we going to camp out here?”

There is a nip in the air that warns of frost. He is glad Vex has Trinket lying next to her. 

She laughs lightly. “Probably. I don’t think I’ll have much luck getting Trinket into a tavern.” 

Vax thinks for a moment. It has been a long time since they have seen their mother, and he wants to get Vex far away from here. He rolls onto his back and breathes out. 

“We should go see Mother. We could all stay there,” he says. 

He touches Vex’s hair and thinks to himself, let’s not be apart again. 

iv. 

“What do you think of them?” she asks. 

“I think they’re losers,” he tells her honestly. 

She puts her hands on his hips and glares at him. She looks, for a moment, like their mother, and it makes Vax’s throat ache. They will never see their mother again. 

“That’s not very nice!” 

“We’re not children. We don’t have to be nice.” 

“Well, I think it might be nice to have friends.” Her voice falters on the word friend, like it’s something she won’t quite let herself believe could be hers. Vax softens. 

“There’s another half-elf, at least,” he says. “Even if she’s… awkward.” 

“She’s sweet.”

Vax can’t resist. “She insulted your hair.” 

Vex's hand goes to her braid instantly. “I really think she was trying to compliment me. She just wasn’t very good at it.” 

“No, it’s a mess, Stubby. Come here.” 

Vex sticks out her tongue at him. 

“You’re being mean. My hair is fine.” 

“Vex’ahlia.” 

He walks to her and pulls the tie from her braid. She sighs loudly, but lets him run his hand through her hair, loosening it. It falls down her back in glossy, dark waves. 

“What’s gotten into you?” she demands as he takes a comb to her hair. “You’re not usually _this_ much of an ass.” 

“Thank you,” he says dryly, and gives a small, sharp tug on a curl. She responds with an equally sharp elbow. 

“I’m serious, Vax’ildan. Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not lying.” 

“No, but you’re being evasive. Which is just as bad. Do you really not like them?” 

He hesitates. Their new…. _colleagues_ seem fine, if a little rough around the edges. He’s sure the two of them – insular, overly protective, communicating in a dense language of inside jokes and shared experiences and minute expressions – must seem just as rough. He’s sure the fact they’re sharing a room must seem odd as well, though Vex would happily explain that it’s more cost effective and Vax would be equally happy to explain he doesn’t trust strangers. Neither doe Vex, usually, but something that she's read in this group has softened her.

He doesn’t know how to say he’s afraid of losing the relationship, strange and wild, that tangles them together. Vex will always be his sister, but she may not always be his everything.

Nor he hers. 

He could tell immediately when her eyes had lit up upon meeting the half-elf girl that Vex wants more than a brother alone can give. She wants friends. Maybe someday she’ll want a family of her own as well. 

Vax tries to picture himself as an uncle to someone other than a bear. He tries to picture Vex living in a home they do not share. His heart quails at the prospect. He has gotten used to not having to share. 

“I don’t dislike them,” he says finally. 

Vex snorts and pulls away from him. She finishes braiding her hair by herself. 

Vax watches for a moment, then lies down on their bed, facing the ceiling. He threads his fingers loosely together and closes his eyes, listens to the sounds of his sister moving about the room, the familiar measure of her step. Trinket has been slumbering by the bed for over an hour. For once, Vex had managed to convince the tavernkeeper to let him in. 

He feels the bed dip slightly as she lies down as well. He opens his eyes narrowly to look, though not wide enough so that she’ll notice him looking. She’s lying on her back, as he is, face upturned slightly. Her eyes are closed. It makes him think of a body laid to rest, of their two bodies laid side by side to rest, and the thought unnerves him. He rolls onto his side towards the wall. After a moment, he hears Vex do the same with a quiet sigh. He doesn’t acknowledge it. The hour grows later, but Vax cannot sleep. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks in the darkness. By Vex’s breathing, he can tell she’s still awake as well. 

She doesn’t ask him to elaborate. 

“Yes,” she says. “I have a good feeling. And I think we’ve been on our own for long enough.” 

"All right," he says. In the end, he knows, he'll do as his sister asks.

v. 

He follows Vex to her room and grabs her arms as soon as the door has closed. 

“Are you all right? You’re not hurt?” 

“I’m all right,” she tells him, though her face is still tear-streaked and sooty from the day’s events. She pulls her arms from his grasp, then hugs him, burying her face into his shoulder. He holds her tightly.. 

“I would have killed either of them – I would have killed both of them if they’d hurt you.” 

Love them as he does, it’s true. 

“No,” she moans. She pulls away to glare at him. Her eyes are wet with tears. “Enough of this fighting. Both Percy and Grog were trying to do the right thing. We all are.” 

“I still should have known better than to leave you with them,” he says. 

He should never have left Percival’s workshop. He should never have let Vex out of sight. 

Vex’s smile is heartbreaking. She touches his cheek gently. 

“Sometimes I think you and Keyleth are too much alike. You both blame yourselves too much.”

He doesn’t respond. His sister is ever the marksman. He just covers her hand with his own and keeps it there, warm and living against his cheek. 

“Will you stay here tonight?” she asks.

“Of course.” 

That has been his intention from the start. Even with Trinket already sharing her quarters, he will not risk Grog or Percival entering her room while she slumbers to look for the skull. He will not risk losing her in darkness and madness should one of the dragons again attack the keep. He cannot bear to be apart from her now. Not tonight. Dragons – this dragon, Thordak – have taken so much from them. Only the other can help measure that loss.

They haven’t shared a bed in ages, something neither has ever commented upon. Something Vax has never really acknowledged to himself. The act has always been – could only ever be – innocent, and has often been practical. But it still seems a sort of intimacy too difficult to explain. Besides, they have always been near each other already, surrounded by others who would die protecting them, and who they would also die to protect. Since joining Vox Machina, it has rarely felt necessary. Their family has grown larger than them. But after the day's events, Vax feels shaken to his core, and his core is only Vex.

They lie down beside each other, still holding onto each others’ arms. Large sections of Vex’s hair have escaped her braid and halo wildly around her face. He smooths a piece back and looks at her. She smiles weakly. 

“I just feel so helpless,” she says. 

“I know,” he says.

“That’s the dragon that – that’s the dragon that killed mother.” 

“I know.” And he pulls her closer once more that day. 

Perhaps, on another day, to have learned the name of their mother’s killer would have been a boon – a way arrow in the direction of their vengeance. Now it is only a dismal reminder that they’ve failed totally to honor her. Her killer yet lives and destroys. 

They lie together without speaking. Vax’s ears twitch, searching for any hint of danger. He only hears the distant crying of the keep’s refugees. His sister cries silently, but her shoulders shake and the cloth of his shirt dampens. He strokes his hair, lost in dark thoughts of his own. 

Eventually, she stills. He assumes she has found sleep and he offers a prayer of thanks to Sarenrae for that. He shifts slightly – his arm has gone numb – and Vex’s fingers tighten on his shirt. 

“You’re not going?” she asks, childlike. 

“Making myself comfortable,” he tells her truthfully. He feels her nod. 

The silence that follows is expectant, like Vex is steeling herself to say something. He waits, patient and curious. It is rare for Vex to hesitate before a confrontation. 

“Are you sure you want to be here?” she asks. “Wouldn’t you rather be with Keyleth?” 

Any other night, he would leave at that. His relationship with Keyleth is not any of his sister’s business, and even if it were, it feels too much a bruise. To discuss it would be to press down. But, any other night, he would not be in his sister’s bed. 

Vex speaks quickly; she must feel how tense he’s become. 

“I don’t mean – I’m not asking about the two of you. Though I am curious! She’s, she lost her people today. She probably needs you.” 

He is quiet. Vex is right. Keyleth lost the Fire Ashari that day, a quarter of her people and her civilization. He does want to be with her and comfort her and find comfort in her. 

But he cannot bear to be apart from Vex, and he senses a deeper question beneath her question. 

He doesn’t know how to say that he loves them both with equal fierceness, that to love Keyleth does not mean to love Vex less, that the quality of that love must of course be different. He doesn’t understand why this is not all clear to her. 

“You’re an idiot.” He takes her hand and looks at her. Their faces are very close. Sometimes he thinks it should be eerie, to see himself so closely reflected in another person. But it’s always a comfort instead, to know that this person, nearly the same as him, exists and loves him and surpasses him. 

She arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

“I want to be with Keyleth, yeah. But I need to be with you. Whatever my relationship is with Keyleth – and I’m not telling you what it is, nosy – that doesn’t mean anything to you. It doesn’t affect anything between us. It doesn’t affect how I feel about you.”

“And how do you feel about me?” 

He tugs on her braid. 

“That you’re the most annoying sister in the world, obviously.” 

She laughs. It is the frailest, smallest laugh he has ever heard. But it is a laugh. He feels, for a glimmering second, a little lighter. 

“Ass,” she says, fondly. 

“I can’t help it. It runs in the family.” 

“Oh, yes. You definitely get it from our father.” 

They both fall quiet again. Thoughts of their father must turn, inevitably, to their mother and her death. 

Vax looks away. 

“I’ve never forgiven myself,” he says, glad to no longer be looking at Vex’s face, “for not suggesting we see her sooner. We should have gone as soon as we left Syngorn.” 

He feels Vex shift and sit up. She looms above him and looks down upon him. He closes his eyes. Her hand cups his face. 

“We were young. We wanted to see the world. We thought we would have _time_.” 

She says time like it means freedom, like it is all the forests of the world for her to track through, like it is flight itself. In an instant, he realizes he will never have enough time with Vex’ahlia. Even after a hundred years, he would go to gods and beg for more. Truthfully, he has always known this; the knowledge was deep within him. But it crests now like a wave and crashes upon him. There will never be a point where he could sustain her loss. 

“But we could have been with her. We could have saved her.” 

“We would have died, Vax. How could we have faced that dragon then?” She runs her fingers through his hair. “There’s never any use in thinking what could have been or what should have been. We should have never been born. But we’re here, and I’m glad for it. We can only do the best we can with the present.” 

He opens his eyes. 

“There you are, brother,” she says, smiling. 

He reaches up to brush her face with his fingertips. 

“What did I ever do, to deserve a sister such as you?” 

Her smile widens, though her eyes are still sad, and she closes the distance between them to lay her head on his chest. 

“I don’t know. But it had to be something really, really amazing.” 

He puts his arm around her and closes his eyes once more. He breathes deep and calm, focusing on the beating of his heart. It matches hers. 

vi. 

He sleeps, for a second night in a row, in Vex’s doorway. He needs to be near her, but he needs, as well, to remain apart. 

This night, however, she knows to expect him. She opens the door just after he hears the midnight call and looks down at him. 

“Again? Really? The doorway can’t be very comfortable,” she says. 

“Go away,” he grunts. 

She kneels down beside him, quiet. She’s wearing a long nightgown. He has no idea where she’s managed to conjure it from, probably from Percival or an obliging townsperson. Vex seems very comfortable in Whitestone. He half wishes he could keep her here, in comfort and in safety. He knows, of course, that is a dream. He could never hope to keep her anywhere against her will, would never want to. And he knows now, as well, nowhere in the world is safe, that he could not bear to be away from her regardless. 

“Vax,” she says softly. She covers his hand with her own, lacing their fingers together. He has no idea what she intends to say. There is little he is willing to discuss.

“You know I'll never leave you,” she says, after a moment. She squeezes his hand. “As long as I am able.”

“You should sleep,” he tells her. 

He turns his face away. His throat hurts. He cannot tell if love is more often a pain than it is a solace, but he also cannot bear the thought of losing Vex. He would have gladly welcomed death if it meant her life. Perhaps that makes him selfish. 

As it is, he did not die, but has instead this strange, new yoke. He has made himself death's servant. Probably he should not be surprised. 

Vex says nothing, but she gathers his hair in her hands. He lets her. Her fingers dig into his scalp and then run through his hair, teasing out the larger knots. His neck and shoulders prickle and he shivers once. Vex hums softly, and her knuckles press gently, fleetingly against the back of his neck. She takes her time, working his hair into a loose braid. The stones of Whitestone are cool and hard beneath them, the night around them silent. 

When she is done, she leans forward and wraps her arms around his shoulders. Her chest is pressed against his back. 

“Vax,” she says. She presses her cheek against his. “Vax, we have a family now. We – you have Keyleth. If I am lost, I am lost, but you can live without me.” 

He turns with a cry and grabs her, shaking her. 

“I have _nothing_ without you.”

He has nothing without Vex, and so had nothing to offer for her life. That the Raven Queen accepted him anyway does not bode well. 

In his mind rise the twinned images of her deaths – without spark, without pulse, without hope. He had been frantic upon the ziggurat, desperate within the sunken tomb. Vex who is half of him. Vex who is worth more than all of him. She has taken her death too easily, and that shakes him almost as badly as her death itself. 

He is so angry with her.

He holds her tightly and feels only the stammering of his own wild heart. 

Vex kisses his forehead. 

“I know that’s not true,” she says. She pulls away from him gently and stands. His hands hold loosely onto her nightgown. He bows his head. 

She places a hand on top of it, fingernails scratching lightly. 

“And I’m not dead,” she says with cheery calm. “So don’t act so sad.” 

He says nothing. She could not be calm in his place. 

Vex sighs. 

“Sleep well,” she tells him and lifts her hand. “Please try to find an actual bed to sleep in.” 

Again, he does not reply.

She walks back into her room.

**Author's Note:**

> Title lifted from Charles Simic's "Oldest Child". Thanks for reading!


End file.
